Widener - The Angel Inside: Michelangelos Secrets For Following Your Passion and Finding the Work You Love

CONTENTS

To Lisa, Christopher,
Hannah, Rebekah, and
SarahMy Angels!

FOREWORD

Sometimes fiction is truer than fact.

Good fiction doesnt just entertainit also educates. That is the case with The Angel Inside. Chris Widener has wrapped truth in a fictional story that engages our interest while educating our intellect and encouraging our heart.

Ive been fortunate enough to see the David in person while visiting Florence. Photographs and verbal descriptions dont capture the magnificence of the sculpture Michelangelo so masterfully created.

The David is housed in a museum within a large, bustling city. The people who live there or visit comprise the spectrum of human experience. Some are highly educated, while others have limited formal education; some are unbelievably wealthy, while others barely manage to scrape by. Some live their lives large, while others live lives more circumscribed by circumstance.

I believe that the David reminds us of what each of our lives can be, regardless of what they are today. It is an ideal of beauty and perfection that inspires us to aspire to greater beauty in our own lives.

Perhaps the simple truths we learn in The Angel Inside are so appealing because we live in a complex world. We are anxiously searching for the essence, the foundation, that will help us build our own successful lives and businesses.

I agree with Chris: There is a masterpiece within each of us, waiting to emerge. Unfortunately, not all of us understand our potential or how to achieve it. After reading The Angel Inside, I believe youll better realize the God-given potential you possess, to help make your life the masterpiece it is meant to be.

FINDING THE ANGEL INSIDE YOU

Every person has this tremendous capacity to be both king and warrior, a person of value and a person of accomplishmentof beauty and power.

Tom Cook had come to Europe looking for direction, but with only one day left on his trip he was reluctantly coming to the conclusion that it may have evaded his grasp. Feeling frustrated with the way things were going at work and at home, he had planned a two-week getaway vacation that he hoped would clear his head and give him the opportunity to do some soul-searching. Ultimately, he believed that his time away from the United States would relieve the pressure he felt at work and allow him to make some thoughtful decisions about his future. He had already been to England, France, and Spain, but had yet to gain any real clarity about himself or where his career was headed. He was still as confused as hed been the day he flew out of JFK. Today was his third and final day in Florence, Italy, the last city on his itineraryand his time there was almost gone. But then, something happened

Florence. Firenze. City of romance, art, food, and wine. Most who go there are overwhelmed by its beauty. The greatest masterpieces in the world can be found in its museums. Some of the most famous, creative, and influential names in history were born and made their lives here. It is, in all its glory, a cultural hub of history and art beyond comparison. Tom had imagined it would be the perfect place to find direction, joy, and inspiration.

It was early afternoon and he was sitting on a bench in a bustling plaza. He was tired. Tired of traveling. Tired of searching. Tired of life. Just tired.

As he sat with his heavy backpack on the ground at his feet, Tom watched a vast sea of people coming and going, running around just as they did back home. Some of the people seemed happy, others looked like they were in a frenzy to be somewhere else, while still others walked along with their love, gazing into each others eyes. But all Tom saw was a sea of people that brought more questions than answers. Where are they going? What do they look forward to? Are they really happy? He hated to admit it, but he was a cynic at thirty. He certainly wasnt happy, and couldnt imagine that anyone else could be either. Life just didnt work that way.

As he sat, his head slowly drifted downward into his hands as he lost eye contact with the crowd around him. He was among many but was somehow still alone. Then, just as he was feeling sorry for himself, a voice spoke.

My, my. You look much too young and handsome to be so sad of heart, the voice said.

Tom looked upbarelyto see who had interrupted his self-pity. It was an old man. Out of courtesy, he slowly raised his head, still not saying anything. His eyes locked on the old man, surveying him. The old man was an exercise in contrast. On one hand, he lookedrough. On the other hand, he had an elegant air about him. He was old, that was for sure. Seventy, maybe? Seventy-five? His unruly dark brown hair and scruffy beard looked ready for a trip to the barber. Medium height, thin, but with large biceps and pillar-like forearms that seemed out of place on the old mans body. His craggy face and calloused hands had a blue-collar look about them. But the old mans clothes revealed the taste of a connoisseur; you could tell he wasnt buying off the rack at the corner store. This was a man who knew a tailor or two. An expensive beret topped his head, and wild as it was, his hair peeked out from underneath with an artistic flair. He wore a beautifully patterned silk shirt that flowed down to the top of natty slacks. His leather shoes were impeccable.

The old man spoke again. Yes, you are sad. I can tell. He didnt ask permission before sitting down next to Tom. Tom couldnt believe this was happening. He was still caught up in being alone and depressed. But I can also see that you certainly have much to be happy about. Tell me, what is your name?

Tom.

Tom? TomThomas?

Yes, Thomas.

Ah, yes, I see. Like the doubter? the old man grinned. You are doubting, arent you? Doubting Thomas. What are you doubting, Thomas?

Tom thought, What am I doubting? This is crazy. I have a crazy Italian sitting next to me. Finally he said, Well, I appreciate your concern, but I am not really doubting anything.

Pardon me, Thomas. I know you must find this intrusive, but I have intuition for these kinds of things. I have been around now for a very long time. I have seen much. I see that you are doubting. But perhaps you do not like that word. Well, then, what is it that burdens you this day, Thomas?

Tom decided to humor the old man. What could it hurt? After all, things couldnt get worse. Well, lets see. I just turned thirty and I am nowhere near where I want to be in my career. My boss thinks I have zero career potentialat least it sure comes across that way because he keeps sticking me with jobs that no one else wants. My job seems like a treadmill that will never get me to where I want to go. My girlfriend just dumped me because I dont have enough upside, as she calls it. Even my parents wonder when I am going to begin to make something of myself. Frankly, I am beginning to believe Im useless.

A young couple walked by and asked the old man if he would take their picture. He obliged, and they quickly posed for him. When he was finished he returned their camera and they bounded down the street, laughing giddily.

The old man turned back to Thomas. Useless, I see, said the old man. That does sound disheartening. I can see why you would be sad, even in this beautiful city. Most people hereespecially the touristsare happy. He paused and then asked, How long have you been in Florence?